Part Deux

Discounting all the little things that made the flow of work a little more challenging, starting the second year in med school was quite...benign.  Note the use of the term "little things."  The term applies not to the important details that matter so much in the long run/for the bigger picture, but the petty insecurities, normal inconveniences (in the words of a nurse in a medical ethics forum, "complexities of life"), and existing consequences of past actions that would ruin my mood if I let them.  No time for any worthless whining or draining drama.  This time around, it's just a matter of taking the "truly-really-seriously-no BS-important" things as they come and blending that with skills/capabilities/abilities/talents, to be able to allow myself to bridge the gap between status quo and what I imagine to be a better state.  This endergonic process (should it be exergonic, I don't care at the moment) derives its energy from the exhilaration I've experienced from the liberating realization that I have an identity, and has produced a great many wonderful products, including positive vibes that would help sustain what my third year friends call "One Big Fight (towards finally wearing the v-neck uniform)."  The overflowing optimism at the moment is coming from the sheer amazement of being able to affirm myself through life experiences and being able to start to unify what has seemed to me as a life filled with great entropy.  And probably getting enough me-time, down-time this summer.

Enough chemspeak now.

Sikaran

Sibuyan is a beautiful island just off Romblon, however, its beauty may very well soon be marred by greed and mining.  What better way to call attention to the threat, than to take a cycling eco-tour of the island?  I'm joining something called "SIKARAN: Sikad Para sa Sibuyan": A Bicycle Eco-Tour to Save Sibyan Island.




I remain optimistic that I can manage the seven day tour.  I might have not been biking around too much in the recent years, but I still know how to cycle around on a mountain bike.  I am comforted (and inspired) by the fact that among the people who will be coming with me, is a woman (who is much older than I am) who just learned to bike last week.  Maybe the tour around the supposedly flat island is going to tighten up my wobbly bits or something.




Or maybe not.  Let's hope I won't be trying to catch the first ferry home after the first day of the eco-tour, sore butt and all.  I am very wary of the tour, seeing photographs of the actual island.  My mum told me that the organizers told her that the island was flat.  (See the last photograph above.)   The bike trail is supposed to go around the island--I don't know if that means just skirting the shore, but the schedule says that we are to stop over each barangay that we pass.  So that might very well mean that even the bike trail is not flat.  I guess my mum's friends are the kings and queens of understatement.  I don't know if it's because they have some vision problems that come with age, but I am very certain that the island is as flat as they imagine it (or maybe hope for it) to be.  And to think she wanted to join the cycling tour as a biker, too!  It's like suicide by mountain bike, mum!  (*Dodges dungbomb thrown by mum*)


(Seriously, why do I keep on believing my mum?  This might very well be one of the worst suggestion she made, but I reserve judgment until I finish the tour or until I get over the fact that my mum will always try to manipulate me into doing things with/ for her or if I lose some wobbly bits as a prize.  Note to self: double check next place mum tries to wheedle oneself into doing.  Okay, I kid, I kid.  But Mum, I am so ready to kill you right now!  The island is NOT flat!)






P.S.  This post qualifies as a notice of being offline for the next days.  I am also unsure whether my mobile will have a signal within the island.  Any messages or replies or posts or SOS calls might remain unanswered for the time being.

Palawan Diaries Part Two

04 April 2008
Day 2




First day of academic tutorials and I am assigned to the brightest kids of the group; I do not have enough training (and patience, perhaps) to be able to deal with the ones whose needs are greatest.  Technically, they're on their high school years already, but they were brought back to lower levels when the volunteers found out that the dormers really had a tough time with the basics.  It will take some heroics for us in the next few days to be able to fully help these kids.  There is just so much to do and teach in such a short time that we're having a hard time prioritizing what lessons to teach.  But the hardest part is keeping the kids riveted on the lessons, with their short attention spans and distracted minds.  My fellow volunteer decides that we do games with the group to help them focus and learn the most important things that they need to understand.




Also, it's Sister Clara's birthday today.  This explains the appearance of spaghetti on the dinner table.  Most times, the Dorm relies on rice, noodles, and vegetables to keep the kids's stomach's full; animal protein (including fish and other seafood so readily available) is a rare treat.  I learn that the Dorm is trying to stretch their own meager funds to make sure the kids eat three meals a day; morning or afternoon snacks are a rarity and are seen as special treats.  It's depressing to think that these kids might have some protein malnutrition as a result, and even more depressing to learn that the kids only have a chance to eat full meals while they're in the dorm; some kids have confided that they would literally starve in their homes because food was truly hard to come by, even if they worked the land or fished the sea.  This explained the hyperacidity that the kids would complain of right before mealtimes-I suspect that majority of them already have ulcers from the hunger they experienced before.  At this I feel a bit guilty as I realize that I never went hungry at any point of my life and I am thankful for such blessing.




I noticed pans and bowls and plates of flowers decorating the tables.  The kids have raided the premises and came up with the beautiful decor for Sr. Clara's birthday.  These kids are so creative!

Before tucking in, we encounter unwanted guests in the hut.  Geckos have managed to scare us into quivering mardees; I am afraid because when the gecko sticks to you, it's quite hard to remove unless you burn it or scrape it off your skin and it usually bites when it feels threatened.  (Tuko bites cause much bleeding and are notoriously hard to control, usually entailing some medical assistance, and medical assistance was two hours away.)  Initially an eye-to-eye encounter left my knees weak as I proceeded to whisper to my housemates that there was a tuko in residence that was crawling near our sleeping places.  Another tuko made its appearance a little later and we all huddled downstairs anxiously waiting for the reptiles to go about their business and leave us alone.  Thankfully, the dorm 'father' from the Boys' Dorm and one of the kids were able to catch the creatures that were preventing us from getting any sleep.



05 April 2008
Day 3




I thought I had it rough, but the kids have a much harder time.  It's a Saturday, but we are holding classes because they want to maximize the time that volunteers are here to help.  I learned that the sisters who ran the place had great difficulty without the help of academic volunteers and this was most of the year; volunteers would usually stay a month maximum (they had jobs, too, you know) and then the kids would lack teachers until new volunteers came.  The sisters were actually asking me if I could stay for a year and teach Science, Math, and English, given my strong academic background, even if I never had any formal training as teacher--I wish I could give them such time, but I am in med school.  Anyway, I see the kids eat breakfast, rush off to chores delegated amongst themselves, attend academic tutorials, rush off to another round of chores around the dorm, eat lunch, do another set of chores, attend a second round of academic tutorials, do their personal chores, do Dorm chores, eat dinner, do chores again, and finally tuck in exhausted at around 9 in the evening.  The kids almost never have any time to themselves and I worry for their own well-being; it might be that the busy schedule keeps their minds away from thinking about problems back at home or about academics, but I am truly bothered by the wear-and-tear of the daily routine on their young bodies.  They are much stronger physically than I could ever be.



06 April 2008
Day 4

It's my first Sunday in Macarascas and I wake up early so I could prepare for the Mass given by Fr. Chris.  I am surprised when he calls all April celebrants to be blessed at the end of the Mass and before long, I am fielding questions from curious kids about my upcoming birthday.  I see them a bit hopeful that I might be celebrating it during my stay in the place, and I truly wish I could celebrate my birthday in this tiny piece of heaven with the kids, but I have to be back in the capital by the 18th and so cannot indulge the kids.  Our academic tutorials continue today, as we all try to bring the kids' English skills up to par with what's expected from their age.



07 April 2008
Day 5




Early morning signaled the start of the trip to Snake Island in Honda Bay.  Hallelujah for a mobile signal, as I am finally able to talk to family and friends since arriving here; Macarascas (where the dorm is) is nestled within the mountains and only the Globe network reaches that; ironic that as we move to the sea, the Smart network is the one with the signal instead.  Anyway, we take a quick brunch, then I proceed to dive into the water for some snorkeling and feeding the fish with monay (small buns of bread).  I have no sunblock with me and before long, I am the color of almost-burnt toast, but I don't care because I am having the time of my life.  The fact that the corals were a bit damaged and bleached was a sad fact to contend with, but my spirits were revived by the amazing variety of marine life that was present.  A quick lunch in one of the huts interrupted my water activities but not long and I was back in the water, encouraging the other volunteers to go in.  My inner water baby literally came out, and I enjoyed swimming around, feeding more fish with bread, avoiding sea urchins, and trying to catch the bigger fish.  When I finally get out of the water, my skin is painful and I congratulate myself on my first ever sunburn.




Later in the afternoon, we go to Sabang Beach, some three hours' drive into the forest from Honda Bay.  The afternoon light was fast fading, and most of us were a bit damp from the experience of Snake Island, so we began to get chilled by the airconditioning unit of the van.  Out came our sarongs, and we tried to catch some sleep, to no avail.  Everywhere around us rose mountain cliffs and thick forests and endless fields; we were too busy trying to take photos to rest.  Eventually the sun dipped and we found ourselves in the forest path in the dark.  The van was starting to get strangely quiet as my fellow volunteers started taking their naps or just conserving energy. 

Around that time, one volunteer asked me to close the sunroof, because apparently elementals were already frightening our co-volunteer who had a third eye.  A glance at her confirmed that she was indeed already seeing the creatures I couldn't see; I couldn't see if she was already crying from fear.  Apparently too, some elementals hitched a ride on the van, for the van's bottom was scraping the rough road underneath-something that we never experienced before.  When we arrived at the resort later, my co-volunteers were talking about the unusual number of people who were walking in the forest at that time of the day, when it was so dark already.  "Many people?" I asked.  Apparently they saw more people or rather, human-like creatures along the road, when I could see none.  I was quite disturbed by my co-volunteer's recollection that these creatures' feet did not quite touch the ground, and that we also passed some doppelgangers along the way, who took the form of the actual people we had passed minutes before.  Well, moving on...

We stayed in a resort oddly named 'Green Verde.'  For dinner we had tinolang manok (err. chicken in stock with green papayas and sili leaves) and sinigang na baboy (pork in tamarind broth with vegetables) and heaping servings of rice.  It was so pleasant eating our dinner in a hut on the sandy beach, with the sound of the crashing waves breaking the monotony of the cries of  nocturnal creatures.  I wanted to take a dip in the beach, but there were no lights to guide me in, and I was warned that the electricity (the generator, actually) was always turned off at 10 PM.  Our driver/tourist guide, sensing my disappointment, told me to look up to the skies--and there, the skies of Palawan held me in awe.  In Manila, I could never see the starts anymore because of the pollution, but on this island, the entire firmament was mine.  I could probably never aptly describe the tremendous beauty of the black skies punctuated with the diamonds that were the stars.  For one blessed hour, I stood and stared at the sky, with the moving satellites and airplanes interrupting my view at times.  I was surrounded by the looming mountains, the crashing sea and the starry sky, and I was truly and irrevocably at peace.

Palawan Diaries Part One

03 April 2008
Day 1

Waking very early to get to the Centennial Airport for an 0800H flight today had the words "WRONG, WRONG, WRONG!" stamped all over it.  Rising on an ungodly hour of a weekday after an hour of sleep brought back memories conveniently stowed away for two weeks already; yours truly was supposed to be hibernating the summer away, after a very colorful year of med school, after all.  The realization that Palawan was waiting, coupled with the threat of expensive rebooking fees banished all thoughts of procrastination, and before long, yours truly was on a flight to a remote area nestled in the forests that needed so much help.  Friends and extended family members thought that yours truly was on a "burn-out" holiday, replete with sandy beaches, shopping, sightseeing, and stamped passports.  If only they knew.

The window seat afforded a view of the billowing clouds, the shimmering sea in all its azure beauty, the uninhabited (by humans, of course) islands still lush and green, numerous sand bars that would disappear in the tide, and the raging morning sun.  The sight of the Taal volcano waiting in stillness brought a smile to my face and memories of Geo 11 flooding from my mind, and I promised myself I would go back there someday to again reach its inner cauldron.  Trying to make sense of the shapes of clouds took away most of the time and the boredom on the hour long flight; I imagined cherubs playing among the plains of clouds at 30000 feet and pantheons of long forgotten gods of mythology chasing each other amidst screams, laughter, and bliss.  Otherwise, I was bored silly trying to imagine myself in the pilot's seat as the plane banked left and right on its flight path, observing the flight attendants' manners and appearances, or trying to sneak a peek at other passengers as we all bounced to the mild turbulence some minutes before approaching the island.

The army band playing tunes amidst the light rain to welcome tourists

As we descended from the aircraft, we were greeted by the sight and sound of an army band playing some sort of music.  I tried to look for any possible dignitary or self-styled rich brat/diva who was flying with us, as I thought that would be the only reason for such a welcome to be staged at the dingy airport; apparently the army band would play such tunes to welcome visitors of each flight to Palawan.  (I don't know if the situation in Palawan is so peaceful that the armed forces would have nothing much to do, except for making some token patrols around the area and entertaining tourists as such.)  All my worries were almost washed away by such a welcome, except that I couldn't find my luggage in the carousel.  My bad, because I forgot to put luggage tags on the all-black sack; next time, I promised to bring luggage in the loudest neon colors with swirls of glitter or a barrage of prints so that I'd find it easier to locate my stuff.

After an hour's wait for another member of the volunteer group who arrived an hour later on another flight (Air Philippines apparently does not serve merienda, as she reported to us PAL passengers who cackled on the sight of peanuts, biscuits and juice), we made our way to the nearest Jollibee to eat lunch.  All the while I was expecting to be fed kalabasa (squash), ampalaya (bitter gourd), or sitao (yard long beans) with plenty of rice, but apparently our hosts wanted us to 'enjoy' ourselves in our first day, hence the fast food lunch.  It was interesting to note that Jollibee reigned in the city, as I observed couples in their tweens sharing sundaes, families with babies  screaming for Chickenjoy (rice + fried chicken + gravy) and sweet spaghetti, senior citizens nibbling on pancit palabok, and adults wolfing down burger steaks with extra rice.











After a dash to the supermarket to buy last minute groceries, we proceeded to the Crocodile Farm.  After a short tour and lecture on crocodiles and crocodiles in Palawan in general, we went to see the wildlife inside the preserve.  I saw the crocodile hatchlings vegging out mouths open, eyes open (?) and motionless in the pens permeating with the awful smell of rotting fish; crocodiles, I learned as we walked on, were nocturnal creatures and ate a lot of raw fish.  The guide cheerfully informed us to keep our cameras outside the pens, as baby crocodiles were known to jump for cameras and mobile phones held over their pens, mistaking the gadgets for food.  We emerged from the crocodile pens to see the thick forest around us.  The preserve had all sorts of wildlife within; bear cats, cuckatoos, ostriches, etcetera.  Reminded of the dangers of malaria, I proceeded to apply insect repellant and went around the foot paths to see the other animals who were apparently asleep or in hiding.  After wandering around, I went to the hut where visitors could hold a baby crocodile for photos.

We arrived late afternoon in the dormitory, where we were warmly welcomed and given a short tour of the place.  I could see the kids looking at us shyly or greeting the volunteers who had previously gone in the place.  We were introduced to the volunteers, the parish priest, the kids, and the sisters.  Bags in tow, we went to what was fondly known as Bahay Ganda (House of the Beautiful) located outside the main area, within the lot that likewise housed the Boys' Dorm.  We (ten volunteers) were to spend the next several nights in the nipa and bamboo hut, armed with mosquito nets, cotton blankets, and our makeshift pillows. 

After some time, a bell signalled the start of dinner, simple yet delicious and oh-so-fresh.  The welcome program by the kids was started right after, and then we spent almost an hour discussing our plans for academic tutorials, interest groups and other activities.  I receive the shocking news that instead of science and mathematics, I am to teach English; apparently the kids' really needed help on the basics of English comprehension.  The entire volunteering experience would entail us teaching the dormers the very basics of the English language.  I am uneasy, disappointed and bummed; I'm not exactly the best person to go to for grammar, elocution, or whatnot.  I came here with the expectations of teaching Science and nothing else; it seems that there is a huge communication gap between the people who invited me to volunteer and the actual volunteers who ran the place.  I contemplate catching the first plane home the very next day, but what the hell, I couldn't waste money on rebooking fees just yet, and I've never backed down from being slapped with the subtle hint that I might not be needed after all.

Provincia

Not content with our semi-bucolic village hamlet in the suburbs of Manila, yours truly has decided to take a vacation take a trip to a very rural/pastoral/rustic/arcadian place where only one network has any semblance of a mobile signal, where you actually pump water out of a well to take a bath or a dump under the stars, where you cross some rice paddies or jump islands to get from home to home, and where you ride on the roof of a jeepney (picking up the pigs and furniture and produce that go inside the jeepney) to get to the main city.

Adiós! Au revoir! Slàn leat!


P.S. Let's see if I get LJ withdrawal symptoms. :P

Bubblegum Ice Cream

I cannot remember the brand of ice cream that came out with the bubblegum flavored treat many years ago.  The color was mint green and pink, and the plastic cone shaped container contained a gum ball at the bottom.  The frozen treat was discontinued for a while and during that long dry stretch of the bubblegum ice cream missing from supermarket freezers, yours truly turned to Dipping Dots for a dose of bubblegum goodness.


Coffee crumble and pistachio and mint chocolate chip still rank above bubblegum in the scale of my favorite flavors, but ice cream is ice cream.  Bubblegum ice cream is special.  Bubblegum ice cream brings me back to happier days.  Never mind that the milky treat is full of artificial colors and flavor; bubblegum ice cream is bubblegum ice cream.  It's comforting and as indulgent as, say, cotton candy.


Naturally, a cone made me very happy for today.


♥ Ice cream is love. ♥

Yes, This.

It's so beautiful to wake up on a Monday, without any trace of worry or without a barrage of stressful thoughts to send my sympathetic nervous system into high gear.  No quizzes, no long exams, no assignments, no books to read, no manuals to complete...nothing.  It's so ironic that perhaps the lecturers/professors are now the ones scrambling over tons of paper or losing sleep over the workload (our grades) that they have to compute those and submit it by deadline.

And I won't think of grades even now.

Cortical Spreading Depression

1. Wake up with a killer migraine.

2. Take one shifting exam with head feeling like it could explode anytime.

3. Try everything to ameliorate pain.  Eat a good nutritious meal, drink two liters of water, keep self in ambient temperature, get eight hours of sleep, do deep breathing exercises, take painkillers, stop reading your handouts and books, keep self in horizontal position, and close eyes against the migraine's aura.

4. Cringe as pain continues to pulsate and migraine aura intensifies.  Restrain self from chucking up the food, water and meds-the toilet bowl need not be your best friend.

5. Watch in horror as BP (normally 90/60) shoots up to 130/100.

6. Take mega-dose of Ibuprofen and start praying the rosary.

7. Try to sleep against the pain.  Place sleep mask over eyes to shut out the dancing stars, the blinking lights, and ribbons of colors associated with the pain.  Distract self from thoughts of an impending cerebrovascular accident or a possibility of a brain tumor.

8. Wake up with a sore head.

9. Remember that you weren't able to go over your notes and text for the shifting exam and the final exam in another subject.

10. Sigh and say, "Oh well, I'm just experiencing the complexities of life."




What is wrong with my brain?  Something triggered a cortical spreading depression that led to release of inflammatory substances that irritated my trigeminal nerve roots that translated to the mammoth migraine.  I can only sigh with regret because the migraine occurred while I was taking the exam for my favorite subject, and my head was still sore (and devoid of some necessary bits of information) when I took the exam for my second favorite subject.

Maybe they were right in saying I'm stressing myself too much trying to read the material when I can always read the samplex instead.  (And darn, those two exams were mostly samplex-based.)

Goodbye 2007

This past year was mostly filled with too much of my whining.  Maybe my expectations were so high (from the intense experiences of 2006) and I just wouldn't move to reach my goals, that I wound up feeling like a loser in 2007.  I have a lot of excuses, but I know I can't blame them for what actually happened in my life.  It was the collective effect of bad decisions, pessimism, and out-of-place-perfectionism.  I've kept moaning about all the regrets I had/have, but then I never mustered enough self-discipline to bring about the changes I wanted.

Of course, I had some ups as well.  I graduated college.  I was able to drive a bit more.  Friends lent their hearts, time, and muscle to get me through very rough times as I started med school.  I slowly got the hang of surviving the new school.  I made new friends and found new role models.  I believed in the power of crushes.  I read Book Seven of Harry Potter.  I found myself able to hold on to money.  I managed to adapt.  I opened my eyes.  I find myself becoming more mature.  I see the emergence of character and conviction.  Maybe I have tons to be thankful for, but I'm too stubborn to recognize them as little miracles or blessings-in-disguise.

So no matter what the stars say, I vow to be braver, more caring, more dedicated, more disciplined, more loving, happier, more grateful, a better friend, a better sister, a better daughter, a better member of the community, and a better child of God.  I know I can reach for even bigger things but I know I must work harder, play even harder, and enjoy and learn.

Happy New 2008.

Post Caffeine Hangover

Waking up with an enormous sleep debt and some caffeine running amok in your system isn't exactly the best feeling in the world. But anyway, I had to discipline myself to attend the morning classes.  Yeah, anatomy was a tough thing to study, but what the hell.

So blessed to be in the company of my beloved friends tonight.  I wonder, though, when we will see each other again.  We're all starting new chapters in our lives and slowly drifting apart (physically).  Maybe the best thing we all can do is cherish our moments together and keep talking to each other through all means possible.